


Say Something

by valarmorghulisbitch



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcoholic Tony Stark, Angst, Christmas Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Not Really Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:58:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2762237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valarmorghulisbitch/pseuds/valarmorghulisbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically lots of Tony angst and Steve shutting him up with his mouth. AU where Age of Ultron doesn't happen and Civil War doesn't happen and everything is beautiful for a while. Also Tony Stark runs S.H.I.E.L.D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wreck-it-rogers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=wreck-it-rogers).



> Alright, this is it, this is happening, happy SteveTonyFest 2014! :)

     It was snowing. Tony grunted, reached behind his ear, and removed the faceplate. Cold, bitter air filled his lungs. Already, he could feel the snowflakes melting on his lips.

     “Jarvis? Why is it snowing? Where are we, Jarvis?”

     “Chattanooga, Tennessee.”

     Tony blinked and sat up. His entire body was sore. He looked around at the empty field. In the distance, cars sped up the narrow road, paying no attention to the remnants of the Iron Man buried in the snow. On the edge of the clearing, among the trees, he spotted a lonely figure, fast approaching. The man’s form radiated a soft orange glow. Tony squinted and cursed under his breath. Aldrich Killian was moving toward him with a menacing smile, and Tony could already feel the heat the Extremis gave off.

     “Jarvis? How much power do we have?” Iron Man demanded, scrambling to get back into his costume.

     “I actually think I need to sleep now, sir,” the Al replied, his voice fading. The suit went dead.

     “Jarvis? Jarvis? Don’t leave me, buddy,” Tony groped the ground around the suit frantically, looking for spare parts – anything to use as a weapon.

     Too quickly, Killian’s burning hands closed around Stark’s throat and lifted him off the ground. Tony grabbed his forearm, struggling to break free, and felt his skin bubble and burst at the contact with the Extremis.

     “Your girlfriend’s body rejected the serum,” the monster growled, licking his lips. Tony’s eyes widened, as the grip around his throat tightened. _Not Pepper. Not Pepper._

     “Don’t worry, Tony,” Aldrich whispered. “You’re going to see her soon enough.” The snowy field behind Killian’s distorted face swam before Tony’s eyes as he felt his last breath escape his lips…

 

* * *

 

     “Tony! Tony!” Someone shook his shoulder gently. “Tony, wake up! Tony!” Tony awoke with a start, inhaling sharply. He could still feel the burn of the man’s fingers around his throat. Sweat was dripping down his forehead, clouding his vision. Slowly, Steve’s concerned face came into view.

     “Tony, you had a nightmare, wake up.”

     “Pepper, he killed Pepper…” Tony muttered helplessly. Disoriented, he held on to Steve’s wrists, struggling to wriggle free of the bed sheets.

     “It’s okay, Tony,” Steve spoke softly. “She’s safe. She’s with Happy now, remember?” He reached behind Tony and pulled the sweat-soaked sheets from under him. Feeling the cool winter breeze against his burning skin, Tony was finally able to shake his head free of the feverish nightmare. He looked around the room, trying to piece together his surroundings.

 

**Bedroom, Avengers Tower, New York, U.S.A.**

 

     Everything looked normal, safe, except…

     “Steve, what are you doing in my bedroom?” Tony demanded, thinking back to the previous night. Was he drunk? Did they…

     “You were screaming, Tony,” Steve gave the man a small smile. “I heard you from down the hall. Reflexes,” he shrugged.

     With a shudder, Tony dropped his head into his hands, ran his fingers through his tangled curls. They sat together in silence for a few uncomfortable moments until Steve finally got up from the corner of Tony’s bed. He looked questioningly at Tony, and, receiving no reply, moved toward the door.

     Tony stared at his hands, as the shaking in his body subsided. He glanced over at his nightstand. 2:34 a.m. He had to endure another three hours in the dark, cold bedroom, alone with his thoughts, struggling to breathe.

     “Steve?” He called out sheepishly, listening to the soldier’s footsteps. The blonde’s head popped back into view in the doorframe.

     “Will you…will you stay with me?” Tony asked in a thin voice. He was afraid he would scare Steve away, but the thought of spending the rest of the night in silence, watching the snow fall outside, was even more unbearable.

     “Of course!” Steve nodded without missing a beat. He returned to Tony’s side at the edge of the huge bed, tucking his feet under the blanket.

     Turning to Tony’s disheveled figure, the soldier found Tony’s trembling hand and squeezed it gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

     And just like that, Tony’s mind came pouring out. Unsure at first, the genius stumbled, trying to explain the paralyzing horror he experienced every night when he closed his eyes, but failing to find the right words. He told Steve about Pepper – how he promised to keep her safe, promised to catch her, but let her down every time. He told him how marvelous the few months following Killian’s defeat had been, how he thought he was doing so well. And then he told him how one day she just left.

     “Don’t get me wrong, I’m…I’m so happy for her because she’s ha-happy,” Tony’s teeth chattered as a gust of wind swept across the room. Steve climbed over Tony’s feet to shut the window, and the smaller man couldn’t help but shiver when the blonde’s hand accidentally brushed his stomach. When Steve returned back to his original cocoon of blankets he had constructed for himself over the course of Tony’s shaky narrative, he nodded slowly. And Tony knew in that moment that no matter what he told him, his friend would never judge, would never condemn his weaknesses, or belittle him for his errors. 

     Steve watched Tony quietly for a few moments, lowering his head onto the pillow to better see his face.

     “You should try to sleep,” he finally declared.

     When he saw a shadow pass over Tony’s face, he inched closer to him, and whispered, “It’s okay…just lay down, we can keep talking as long as you’d like.” With a deep sigh, Tony settled back into the pillows, all too aware of the proximity of Steve’s body and the heat it was giving off beneath the sheets.

     “You know what?” Tony giggled. “It’s Christmas…it was exactly a year ago, and I’m still a mess.”

     “A hot mess,” Steve responded with a chuckle. And suddenly, they were laughing, laughing so hard that Tony had to grab Steve’s elbow to prevent him from rolling off the bed. Instead of keeping Steve on the bed, however, Tony collapsed on the carpet next to him. A firework exploded outside of Stark’s floor-to-ceiling glass windows in a bundle of red, green, and white. Tony looked up and held his breath. Steve’s profile was outlined against the warm firework lights, the snow falling softly in the background. The smaller man knew he was staring but he couldn’t bring himself to turn away. Because he knew, once he turned away, the spell would be broken, and Steve would leave, inevitably, as they all did.

     “Steve?” Tony whispered, trying to stretch this moment for just a second longer.

     Steve looked down and smiled at Tony. God, he was so beautiful.

     “Steve, hey, listen,” Tony started, searching for words again, and drawing a complete blank. “Look, it’s Christmas, and you know, I’m about to do something incredibly stupid, and probably selfish, and you’re … you’re,” he paused, holding his breath. Steve’s eyes found his and held his gaze, and somehow, Tony saw, the soldier already knew, but he kept talking anyway.

     “You’re going to be weird about it tomorrow, and probably for the rest of my life, really, but I just, I have to know, I have to try, because if I don’t, I’ll be all alo-“

     Steve’s lips found his and cut him off. Tony heard a muffled noise escape his own mouth before Steve’s strong arms pulled him closer, lifting his chin a little, and gripping his messy hair. Afraid to move, to breathe, Tony just held on to Steve’s wrists as he had when the soldier first found him, drowning in his own fears. Tony felt light-headed from the lack of oxygen, but at last, he could truly breathe again.

     Gently, acutely aware of Tony’s momentary fragility, Steve pulled away, just enough to press their foreheads together. Tony was grinning like a five-year-old on a Christmas morning because Steve was the best present he’s ever received and one that he had definitely not deserved.

     “Merry Christmas, stupid,” Steve whispered into Tony’s ear, and the smaller man sank into his lap, allowing his mind to relax, to let go, to simply float on in this brief moment of serenity.

 

* * *

 

 

     “Director!” Maria Hill stood panting at the door of Tony’s office. Hill and Stark never did get along, but with Tony’s recent promotion, the woman had no choice but to obey his orders and to treat him with cool respect. She rarely so much as frowned in his presence, never allowing her features to betray a single emotion. Now, as Tony motioned for her to enter, she looked panicked, strands of hair falling out of her normally neat ponytail, with her face flushed red. Immediately, Stark knew she came bearing horrible news.

     “Explosion,” she declared, still breathing hard. “In Sector 7. We’ve detected an abnormal heat signature in the area, and our latest intelligence indicated potential Extremis activity in the borough.”

     Stark nodded. Ever since he had been appointed acting S.H.I.E.L.D. director, with Fury still missing or possibly dead, he had spent his every waking moment surrounded by chaos and war. Yet in his months at S.H.I.E.L.D., he had never seen Maria so shaken before.

     “Captain... Commander Rogers was on call,” she continued. Tony inhaled sharply, and felt his heartbeat increase. What was Steve doing out in Sector 7? He was supposed to be finishing up a minor assignment, a clean up job, and heading home.

     “He went in, sir. He was well within the range of the blast. We warned him those...creatures were volatile, but he insisted there were civilians in the area, and ...He went radio-silent within seconds of the explosion. His communicator is dead.”

     Tony gripped the corner of his desk, and rose, his body shaking now. He could feel the onset of an anxiety attack, as sweat dripped down his forehead.

     “Director Stark,” Hill spoke quieter now, “at this time, Captain Rogers is missing, but we have reason to believe that he-”

     “Organize a team,” Tony interrupted her, struggling to prevent his voice from shaking. “I want our guys there 24/7 doing search rounds, questioning civilians, collecting data, whatever it takes.”

     “Director, I don’t think...” Hill paused, looking at Tony with a look that vaguely resembled pity.

     “Find him,” Tony demanded, clenching his fist.

    

* * *

 

     Tony woke up early on Christmas morning, his head pounding and his eyes watering from the sleepless nights he had spent in the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound during the past 11 days. Outside, it was snowing. He had attempted to join and lead the search parties that were being sent to Sector 7 every day, but Hill insisted that he remain in the compound for his own safety. Tony had never realized how many death threats the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. received each day until he took the job. Maria had expected him to resist when she ‘strongly suggested’ that Stark learn to place his duties as head of S.H.I.E.L.D. above his personal problems.

     “He was just one agent,” she had declared. And although Tony had wanted to scream, to cry, to run out into the street and dig through the rubble with his bare hands in blind desperation, he had listened. Now, as he rubbed his eyes sore, he began scrolling through the private S.H.I.E.L.D. channel, hoping, praying for news on Steve. In the week and a half that Rogers’ status had officially remained “missing”, Tony had given up hope. He knew what the Extremis were, and he knew just how deadly they could be when they became unstable. Super soldier or not, had Steve been anywhere near an Extremis when he malfunctioned, he could not have possibly survived. All Tony wanted now was certainty. He had to know.

     With a shaking hand, he reached across the desk for the half-empty bottle of expensive whiskey he had delivered to him earlier. The genius had no more tears left. All he had was whiskey and pain.

     When a knock on the door awoke him from his stupor several minutes later, Tony didn’t even bother to conceal the bottle or straighten his stained, crumpled shirt. He couldn’t even find it in him to order whoever it was banging on his office door at 7:30 am to go away.

     “Tony.” 

     Tony Stark turned towards the door, trying to focus on the intruder, and heard the bottle that he was holding in his left hand shatter on the floor. There stood Steve. His Steve. Smiling gently at him. There were no traces of injury apart from a few scratches on his uniform. Tony gasped, grabbing onto the table for support. He tried to get up so he could cover the distance between the desk and Steve and make sure that the soldier before him was real, was here, was alive. But he was still unsteady from all the liquor in his system, so as he stood, he staggered almost tripping over his own chair. After a few more shaky steps, he had to lean his shoulder against the wall to prevent himself from collapsing.

     “Tony,” Steve spoke again, softer, taking in his partner’s disheveled state. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m alive. I’m sorry.”

     Tony simply stared at him across the room, barely able to process the reality unfolding before him. Steve was alive. He was alive. The blonde approached slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Tony until he reached the smaller man. He stood there, inches away, without touching him.

      “Tony,” he repeated again. “I am so sorry. I couldn’t contact you...” Steve launched into a winded explanation of how he was forced to go under when he discovered some HYDRA affiliates were tracking him, how he was a safe enough distance away from the explosion and had to destroy his communicator so as not to blow his cover. Nothing made sense in Tony’s mind. All of his thoughts were replaced by a simple phrase, seared into his brain – “He’s alive.” Eventually, Steve fell silent, and watched Tony’s face carefully. He must have looked like he’d seen death.

     “Say something, Tony,” the soldier whispered now, his eyes pleading. He wanted to reach out and hold Tony but he was afraid to hurt the man, who was barely standing, shaking, tears streaming down his face without his even realizing.

      “I...you...” Tony swallowed, his throat raw from the whiskey and the tears.

     “Tony, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve finally reached out and grasped Tony’s hand.

     “You’re alive,” Tony finally managed in a hoarse whisper, barely audible. And as he felt Steve’s hand touch his, skin on skin, he finally let go. He collapsed into the soldier’s arms, crying, crying, crying. His entire body was shaking with violent sobs, as Steve cradled his head against his chest and rocked him back and forth gently, telling him that it’s okay, he’s okay, _they’re okay._

      “You’re alive,” Tony repeated, over and over. He untangled himself from Steve once he finally regained some control over his limbs, looking up into his lover’s face, taking in his features hungrily as though he was seeing him for the first time. He reached out, cupping Steve’s face and pulling him down until their foreheads were touching. “You’re alive.”

     “Couldn’t miss our anniversary, could I?” Steve replied, and Tony realized he was crying, too.

     They stayed like that – curled up against the wall on the floor of the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound for several hours with Tony never letting go of Steve’s hand. They barely spoke, simply holding on to each other for dear life, each man silently praying that he would never have to separate again.


End file.
